Spock? We're Not on Vulcan Anymore
by Cumberbatch Critter
Summary: It wasn't a very dignified way to die. Freezing to death and cuddling with his Vulcan first officer. Hypothermia!fic. Rating for language. Friendship set post-Into Darkness.
1. As Cold as Delta Vega

**Spock? We're Not on Vulcan Anymore.**

It wasn't Delta Vega, but Kirk thought that it served almost the same purpose.

The purpose was to prove a point and the point was... these planets were _damn_ cold.

Not that it helped Kirk out much right now, when he was hurriedly zipping his coat up as far as it could go.

"Any brilliant ideas?" he asked, looking sideways at Spock.

"None that are particularly illuminating," Spock replied, his gaze analysing the landscape around them.

"Great," Kirk muttered. He looked at his PADD. "What's the name of this place? Benton VII or something?"

"Betatin VII. Class M, classified as potentially harmless," Spock interrupted.

"Yeah. What the hell does 'potentially harmless' mean, anyway?" Kirk said, stashing his PADD.

"Most likely, the Federation found species that were peaceful unless otherwise provoked. Or it could simply mean that there is very little data on the life forms on this planet."

"Great." He shoved his already cold fingers into his gloves and stamped his feet impatiently. "Aren't you cold?" he asked, noticing that his first officer had not yet zipped his coat.

Spock glanced down at himself. "No." Nonetheless, he zipped up his coat, seeming distracted by the snow and mountains surrounding them as he took the gloves from the pocket.

Kirk sighed. "Did you not notice? Because it's, you know, cold out here."

"I was more consumed with the idea of our escape," Spock said, returning his gaze to the landscape even though there was nothing to see except blankets of snow.

"Do you _feel_ the cold?" Kirk asked dryly. If Spock said _no_, Kirk was going to hate him forever. If they had to turn into Popsicles, they were turning into Popsicles together, damn it.

"I can ignore certain elements if I choose to." Kirk was about to complain when Spock continued. "The cold, however, only... _partially_ falls under that category. After time, I will not be able to efficiently block out the temperature. Which is... inconvenient."

Kirk rubbed his hands together. "Yeah, well, now you know how I felt when you _marooned_ me on Delta Vega."

Spock looked at him. "You were illegally aboard the ship and interfering with protocol. It was the logical choice."

Kirk rolled his eyes. "We'll see how logical you are when you're hallucinating from hypothermia," he said sarcastically, striding ahead. "Come on. Let's see if we can find shelter until the communicators pick up."

"The storm is interfering with our signals. It may be up to eight hours before the snowstorm diminishes enough that the _Enterprise_ will be able to lock onto us again," Spock said, following him slowly.

"Yeah, well, we knew what we were beaming into. Sort of," Kirk muttered. "Scotty said he couldn't guarantee what the weather was like besides 'aye, Captain, 'tis snowing down there'," he said, throwing an embellished Scottish accent onto the words. "This is a bit more than 'it's snowing'."

"His calculations were correct. It is snowing."

"It's not snowing; this is a white-out! We can't even see past fifty feet in front of our noses! I hope this place is harmless," Kirk muttered, drawing in on himself for warmth. "Damn, what I wouldn't give for a hot chocolate right now."

Spock raised an eyebrow briefly but didn't say anything.

They trekked on in silence for awhile. Kirk was already starting to shiver as an immediate reaction to the cold. It wasn't like he hadn't been in snowstorms before, but this was absurd. The wind was whipping against his face, snow pelting his cheeks and clinging to his eyelashes. He wished that they were walking _with_ the wind, not against it, but that seemed to defeat the point. Although, they could have been walking in circles for all Kirk knew. It wasn't like they could see anything.

"Do you have any idea if we're making any progress?" Kirk said, raising his voice to be heard over the wind.

"It would seem that we are heading in a north-northeast path. There should be suitable shelter up ahead, a series of caves, approximately seven kilometres ahead of us."

"I hope you're right," Kirk muttered, shivering hard. "Can't feel my fingers."

"Interesting, as the insulated gloves should be preventing the numbing effect of the cold."

"Don't sound so cheerful."

"Cheer is a human emotion; I am merely stating the facts."

Kirk sighed thinly, trying to keep the cold out of his throat. His lips were numb, even if his fingers weren't or weren't supposed to be. He couldn't feel the exposed bit of his face at all and, really, even if the hot chocolate was out of the question, he would have settled with black coffee or even a mug of green tea. Or just hot water. Something to unfreeze his freezing body.

It took a long while, but they finally managed to stumble their way into the caves.

The storm had gotten worse, they could barely walk against the wind, and the snow was so deep that Kirk had ended up flat on his arse from a hidden patch of ice more than once. Spock had never said a word, just gripped Kirk's forearm and helped him back to his feet as Kirk spluttered and swore.

"We need a fire!" he gasped, pressing himself into the furthest corner of the cave.

It was a small cave, barely twenty feet back and perhaps seven feet wide, and it had taken all of thirty seconds to check the cave for any hazardous life-form. It was hardly a surprise, but Kirk was grateful. He curled into a small ball, drawing his knees to his chest.

"There would seem to be no available timber for such purposes," Spock replied, stopping close to Kirk. He shoved the hood of the parka off, his dark bangs falling in a messy disarray back across his forehead. "However, there should be acceptable materials in the survival kit."

Kirk stiffened. He wanted to repeat _survival kit_ like a question, but that would be a giveaway. Even if his hesitance to answer the question wasn't.

Spock read the silence. "You neglected to bring the survival kit."

"I survive fine without it," Kirk retorted before a shiver shook his body. "I didn't think it was this cold here."

"Surface temperatures read that-"

"I made a mistake, okay!" Kirk retorted, curling up tightly.

Spock's eyebrows flicked up, as per his usual response, although he didn't say anything. His disapproval oozed off of him in waves, but he didn't say anything. He just stood stoically and fiddled with his communicator, his eyes intent on the device in front of him.

This was going to be a long, unpleasant camp-out.

* * *

**Because I have to write a hypothermia fic for everyone fandom that I love, alright? I'm sure this has been done before, but I couldn't resist. I thought it originally wasn't going to work with me, but I think it might just. This is set after _Into Darkness_, for those who are wondering.**

**I do not own _Star Trek_. Obviously, the title is inspired by a _Wizard of Oz_ quote, and I do not own that, either. Thank you.**


	2. As Powerful as the Snow

"I find it highly improbable that this storm will let up anytime soon, Captain," Spock said, looking intently at Kirk.

It was fascinating, how in the face of crisis on board the _Enterprise_, Kirk had the ability to set his jaw, square his shoulders, and laugh in the face of danger. But now, Spock was looking down at a Kirk that was hugging his knees to his chest, looking the personification of childish in his bulky, surprisingly heat-lacking Starfleet parka.

Even now, although they had only spent a mere twenty-three minutes on the hike from their landing point to the shelter they resided in now, Spock could feel the cold temperatures penetrating the down-filled layer of his own parka. He could feel the cold, but it did not mean that he was paying mind to it.

Staying neutral, however, was a battle that Spock did not imagine he would win. He was from Vulcan, a planet known for its extreme temperature and dry, arid landscape. _As hot as Vulcan_ was a common expression amongst human beings; the temperature between Earth and Vulcan were remarkably different. Spock could manage Earth, if necessary, due to the fact that it was still warm (in the seasons spring or summer, respectively). He could regulate the temperature in his own quarters above the _Enterprise_, mimicking that of his own planet. But here on Betatin VII, Spock had no such options to regulate and maintain a necessary body temperature. Once he could no longer block out the temperature, there would be no going back. Once he started to be consciously aware of the cold, he would not be able to maintain a necessary temperature for safety.

It was improbably that the _Enterprise_ would find a satisfactory way to beam them aboard before that moment arrived.

The idea of dying did not frighten Spock. He had face death in the throes of a fiery volcano before. He had accepted it. He had not died, thanks to a misdemeanour on Kirk's behalf, but he had been fully prepared to take his final breath. It was not frightening. He did not fear for his own death.

The death of his friends, or most particularly one, however, did frighten him. It was a human emotion that he was familiar with, but not experienced with. He had not had time to experience fear during the swift events that transpired after the battle with the _USS Vengeance_. He had experienced sadness, and anger, but not fear. Kirk had experienced fear; Spock had not.

Still, there was something unsettling in the thought that Spock may very well have to watch his Captain die a slow and painful death.

Illogical, his mind reminded him. In the event that they were here for such periods of time, Spock would fall unconscious before Kirk could enter such of state of hypothermia.

Kirk would be faced with Spock's death before Spock could be faced with his Captain's.

"Why are you telling me?" Kirk muttered, raising his head only enough to glare towards him. "You're the science officer. Can't you alter our communicators or something?"

"Given the state of the environment we are in, that is a foolish request," Spock replied simply. "We do not have the materials to build a fire, not to mention alter a machine."

"Yeah, right, fine," Kirk muttered, tucking his head back against his knees. "Then we wait on the _Enterprise_ to make contact, I guess," he said, voice a mumble.

It was interesting, Spock thought, how fragile the human life was. After so many years, after so many advances in technology and medicine and a human could still fall victim to death by cold.

Perhaps this wasn't the time to recollect on human frailties, especially not when Vulcans were littered with their own as well.

"That could take hours," Spock said. "The probability that communication will be up in the next twenty-four hours is forty-"

"S-Shhh..."

"Captain?"

"I don't want the... figures, Spock. I don't want the ridiculous numbers; I just want to get out of here!" Kirk retorted. "And would you sit down? Your pacing is making me n-nervous!" he snapped.

Spock raised an eyebrow, although settled into a standstill at his position. "Perhaps you should be exercising your body's capabilities while you still can, Captain."

Kirk threw him a dirty look over his kneecaps. "I can't feel my toes, Spock. They've probably dropped off. I don't want to walk."

"I am quite confident in the theory that your toes are fine, Captain," Spock said dryly, returning to his regime of pacing.

"They've fallen off. I know it," Kirk muttered, his tone sulking. "My fingers are probably falling off, too."

Spock sighed intolerantly. He didn't have long to think about Kirk's state of mind because a moment later, a shiver seized his body. He tensed automatically, trying to drown out the inklings of the temperature. There was no going back from the initial lapse in concentration.

Another shiver slowly moved up his spine, travelling in rivulets throughout his body. Assuredly goosebumps were covering his skin. The cold was taking effect.

He finished the circuit of pacing before folding himself into a sitting position. He looked across the cave at the bundled-up Kirk. "Captain, I am going to enter a state in which you will gleam no response from me. Do not be alarmed if I do not respond to you."

Kirk opened his eyes. "What? Why? What are you doing?"

"Meditation," Spock said, crossing his legs and resting his gloved palms on his kneecaps. "Logically speaking, it should be able to help me stave off the effects of the cold."

"Oh." Kirk looked at him intently for a moment with his bright blue gaze, before looking away. "Alright." He pressed his face against his knees again, only a few tufts of his blonde hair protruding from the parka.

Spock unceremoniously closed his eyes, searching for the serene spot in his mind that would allow him to sink off into a peaceful refuge from the cold.

Kirk sneezed right as Spock was sinking into his meditative state.

Spock opened his eyes.

"Sorry," Kirk muttered, rubbing his running nose on the back of his glove. He sniffed heartily before returning his face to his knees. Even from their distance, Spock could see the Captain shivering.

Spock pursed his lips and closed his eyes again, a tremor from cold making his body tremble. He forced his mind to relax, falling shortly into a state that was less meditative peacefulness than it was morbid deductions and possible remedies that would most likely never work.

* * *

**This is surprisingly difficult to write. Maybe because, like I mentioned in another story, it's so _difficult_ to write post-_Darkness_ Spock, because after his emotional lapse in that movie, it's obvious that he and Kirk are so much closer. So, I try to write what I think would be Spock's state of mind and it's really quite difficult.**

**That being said, cute cuddles will ensue. It's hypothermia, after all, although I can't guarantee how awkward those cuddles will be. :p**

**I do not own _Star Trek_. Thank you!**


	3. As Intelligent as Spock's Ideas

Kirk had never been so cold in his life.

Beneath the parka and the uniform and the underclothes, his skin was so cold that it felt like it was burning. That was a bad thing, he recognized, somewhere in the back of his mind, but he couldn't do a thing about it.

He had lost track of how long they had been here. He could easily look at his PADD for the time, but part of himself didn't want to know. It would just make it more real.

Spock had stopped talking, had stopped moving. Kirk had complained about Spock's pacing, but now, when everything was dead silent, he almost wished that he was pacing again.

"... Spock." Kirk cleared his throat, wanting to lick his lips but not doing so because they would just chap easier. "Spock."

Spock didn't move. His hands were resting lightly on his kneecaps, his head inclined slightly, his eyes closed. As Kirk watched, the Vulcan's breaths turned to fine mist as they hit the air.

"Spock," Kirk said a bit louder.

Still, he received no response. Disgruntled, Kirk pushed himself to his feet. He promptly collapsed, his legs, numb from disuse, hitting the ground with a disconcertingly less painful than usual thump.

He swore painfully and, using the wall for support this time, managed to get to his feet. "Damn it... Spock. Wake up. Stop doing your yoga shit and... wake up," he muttered, rubbing his hip. "I could really use the company, even if you're kind of a bad companion," he joked weakly, even though Spock was apparently still deep in his trance.

Kirk kicked Spock's boot. "Wake up. Spock. Spock-"

Spock jolted awake and Kirk, acting on instinct, jumped out of the way just a half second before Spock's hand closed over the empty space where his ankle had been.

Kirk frowned, leaning heavily against the wall. "Sorry. You wouldn't wake up."

Spock's nostrils flared as he stared up at Kirk. "It is unwise to attack a Vulcan who is in meditation. I would..." Spock trailed off. He cleared his throat quietly. "It would be a regrettable turn of events if you were injured."

Kirk was just about to roll his eyes when he saw a tremendous shudder shake Spock's body. He wanted to laugh- oh, Spock was feeling the cold _now_- but he didn't have it in him to laugh at him when they were both up shit-creek without a paddle. Stuck in a frozen shit-creek. Why couldn't they ever have a mission that went _right_?

"Three hours and twenty... seven," Spock said in a tone of questioning, "minutes since I went into my meditative trance?" He pushed himself to his feet, although Kirk could still see him shivering.

"I don't know. I guess." Kirk paused. "You alright?" he asked awkwardly.

"Affirmative, Captain," Spock said. He took a few steps, subtly arching his back in a stretch. "Temperature is dropping. There has still been no contact from the _Enterprise_?"

Kirk shook his head. "Nah. I'll try it again." He took out his communicator, tuning the frequency. "Kirk to _Enterprise_. _Enterprise_, come in. This is the Captain, Kirk, come in."

Spock looked around the cave thoughtfully. "Perhaps, with our phasers, it would be possible to generate heat by firing on the rocks."

Kirk paused, looking at Spock. "Really?"

"It seems logical."

"One way to find out," Kirk said, shoving his communicator back onto the belt. He took out his phaser and fired at a rock nearby. There was no immediate change, although, after a few seemingly unsuccessful tries, the phaser generated enough heat to radiate from the stone. "Yes! Spock, you're a genius!"

Spock raised an eyebrow but didn't respond to the statement otherwise. "Seeing as how we do not know what dangers may lie on this planet, it is within reason to save one phaser for fighting, if necessary."

Kirk nodded, although he was distracted by trying to heat up more of the boulders laying nearby.

Soon, they had rocks surrounding them, heat radiating from nearly every side. Kirk was seated directly in what would be considered the middle of the mess, while Spock had removed his gloves in favour of warming his hands- Kirk could see that the Vulcan's fingernails were blue- and was crouched on the opposite side.

"How long will these stay warm?" Kirk asked, looking up at Spock. He mirrored his movement and took his gloves off clumsily, warming his frozen fingers. He had, at least, stopped shivering.

"Given the composition of the rock, anywhere from ten to fifteen minutes at this intensity," Spock replied, flexing his fingers. "It seems unlikely that your phaser will withstand much more of this process."

Kirk sighed, his breath turning to a cloud of condensation. "Well, at least it works for now. How are your fingers? All there?"

Spock gave him a dry look. "As is obvious."

"Got the feeling back in them yet?" Kirk asked.

"It would seem so," Spock replied, replacing his gloves. "I am going to reanalyze the snowstorm's progress." He straightened up and zipped his coat up.

"But you just got warm!"

"Which is all the more reason to check it now, whilst I am comfortable enough to move outside of the confines of our shelter," Spock replied.

Kirk sighed, rubbing his legs for warmth. This couldn't get much worse. It just couldn't get much worse at all.

* * *

**Oh, but it can, it could, and it will, dear Jim. Maybe. :p So, sorry for the short chapter, but more cuddles (cuddles? Did you just say 'cuddles' for Kirk and Spock when you don't ship Spirk? Yes. I did.) will ensue. :)**

**I do not own _Star Trek_. Thank you!**


	4. The Downfall

Approximately two hours from their initial idea, Kirk's phaser stopped working. In a fit of freezing-cold-induced rage, he had thrown it against the cave wall with a barrage of swearing before sinking into a cold, huddled sitting position.

Spock had said nothing, although the slight incline of his eyebrows had been enough for Kirk to guess his thoughts.

Kirk rubbed his hands together, groaning mentally as a tremendous shiver shook his body. It was cold, far too cold... Their source of heat was gone and their conversation had dwindled as well. It was difficult to talk when you were about to bite your tongue from shivering so much.

Kirk was faced with the very real possibility that he may die here. That he and Spock would both die. It was a terrible way for a Captain and his first officer to go, wasn't it? Some small part of Kirk longed to be just like his own father; he wanted to die in a way that was honourable, not by freezing to death via snowstorm-transporter malfunction.

Further down, Spock was shivering uncontrollably. Kirk cursed the weather for the umpteenth time and tore his eyes away from his dying first officer.

Because if Kirk wasn't dying, Spock surely was.

There was a temperature difference between earth and Vulcan; Kirk knew that. But it was tolerable to Spock, even if he kept his quarters warmer than the Bridge. But here, it was a totally different ballgame; there was no warmth, no heat, and certainly no thermostat.

Kirk didn't know what to do. He couldn't do anything.

He felt sick to his stomach and he wondered if that was because of the cold or because his best team-member, his friend, was dying. He pegged it down for both and closed his eyes tightly, shuddering. This was thoroughly the most miserable he had ever been.

He shivered again. His body was screaming at him, muscles on fire, to conserve body heat, to find warmth. But how?

His unconscious mind had been making a decision, every so often, in the way that he shifted his weight uncomfortably and inched minutely closer to Spock. He hadn't noticed at first, but then he had become aware of it and forced himself to stop. Spock was not exactly the cuddling type... and certainly not anyone that Kirk wanted to cuddle with, anyway.

_But Spock's so warm_, his mind argued. _Come on, Kirk. It's life or death cuddle time._

Kirk licked his lips, immediately regretting it, as he shifted down another inch towards Spock.

"Screw it," he muttered, getting to his feet. He was dismayed when his legs crumbled and he had to catch himself against the cave wall. "I'm f-fine," he mumbled, as Spock's eyes had flown open and the Vulcan was staring at him. Kirk noted that they lacked the usual intensity. "M-My legs ga-ve out."

Spock looked at him for a moment longer before closing his eyes again.

Kirk hesitated for a moment longer before he flopped down next to Spock. Their parkas brushed and Kirk heard rather than felt Spock flinch away. "S-Sorry," he murmured.

Spock relaxed again. "Did you n-need something?" he asked, his voice holding the mark of trying very hard to remain steady.

"Sharing- Sharing b-body heat... y-y'know..." Kirk explained awkwardly, resisting the instinctual urge to lean into Spock's warmth.

Spock regarded him for a moment before nodding. "Logical," he said shortly, and hesitantly leaned against Kirk's shoulder.

It was easily awkward, but there was also a miniscule change in the temperature. It wasn't the phasers generating heat, but it wasn't as freezing cold as it was alone. Kirk resisted the urge to press further into Spock's warmth. Instead, he clenched his teeth and focussed on trying not to shiver. It was hard to make himself believe that he wasn't cold when he could feel Spock trembling next to him.

Minutes ticked by. It seemed like hours. It was actually probably only seconds.

"S-Spock?"

"Mmm...?"

"Alright...?"

"I am not." It sounded like there was something that Spock wanted to add, perhaps something of reassurance or a logical quip, but he didn't add anything and it left Kirk feeling hollow.

They fell silent again.

Kirk thought he was just on the verge of dozing off when something heavy slumped against him. It took him a disgruntled few seconds to coax his eyes open.

"Spock?"

Spock, Mr Maintain-Ten-Feet-Between-Self-and-Nearest-Living- Organism, had collapsed directly onto Kirk's body. His breathing was laboured and there was frost collecting on his bangs.

"Spock?" Kirk asked again, sitting up slightly. Spock's body slid down to slump against Kirk's chest. "Spock!"

Spock's nostrils flared in would-be irritation, although he didn't speak. He did, however, turn his head to bury it into Kirk's parka, curling up, half on Kirk's lap.

This was no longer Spock having control over his mind. There was no logic. That had been stripped away with the cold and it had left this... shell, this sentimental being that was currently trying to burrow against Kirk's jacket. Unfortunately, Kirk had been paying attention during Academy enough to know that terminal burrowing occurred in severe cases of hypothermia. Or was it moderate? He didn't exactly remember... He hoped it was moderate.

"Spock... S-Spock, wake up," he said, shaking his shoulder slightly. "Hey. I'm n-not a full body p-pillow."

Spock mumbled something that was lost within their parkas.

"What?"

"I cannot... Jim... s'cold..."

"I k-know it's cold, Spock. Spock? Hang on," he muttered, sitting up a bit more. He hesitated before slipping his hand beneath Spock's back, sitting him up straighter. He hesitated less in removing his own hood, removing it from his face and neck. He settled Spock more comfortably against his chest, pressing the Vulcan's cold face against his own neck. He felt Spock sigh, his breath fanning across his skin and raising the hair on the back of his neck. "Don't g-get comfortable. I am n-not staying like this when w-whoever beams us up."

Kirk felt Spock's lips move in response, but the words never vocalised. Spock was half-unconscious, anyway. He wouldn't have ever settled for the physical contact if he had been even partially conscious. Vulcans being touch telepaths and all that shit that Kirk had never really understood and would never understand...

There was so much that he was leaving untouched. So many things that he hadn't gotten to do. What... what a waste, really.

He shivered violently, pressing his gloved hand against one of his ears to keep it warm.

When he was sure that Spock was asleep, or mostly so, he carefully took the phaser from the Vulcan's belt and forced his numb fingers to pull the trigger on the nearby rocks. Sure, keeping one phaser for possible attack was good practice, but they weren't going to have to worry about withstanding an attack if they didn't stay warm. Spock wasn't conscious enough to complain. Kirk was the captain here, anyway.

He sighed in pleasantry when the heat generated from the rocks. He dropped the phaser from his numb fingers and curled up as best he could with Spock supported against him, placing his arm awkwardly behind the Vulcan's back again.

If the _Enterprise_ found them, they sure as hell better keep their damn mouths shut. Kirk would never let them forget that they had almost killed their captain via snowstorm... just as much as he feared that Bones would never let him forget this cuddle with Spock.

If it were different circumstances, he would say that he'd die of embarrassment before Bones could taunt him.

Right now? Dying of embarrassment seemed a pretty decent way to go. At least, Kirk reckoned, it would be much warmer.

* * *

**Yes! I know it's not totally in character! I think severe hypothermia would make them act just a little OOC. And poor Spock's from Vulcan; give him a break.**

**Special thanks to _Everlasting Purple_ for supplying me with fodder for making the boys share body heat.**

**Thank you!**


	5. Final Wishes

Spock was dying.

He didn't know why or how he could face that fact with such relative calm, but he knew it. He was dying. That was the logical assumption.

There was not much room left for logic in his brain. Some small part of him recognized that he was slumped against Captain Kirk in a conduct that was most inappropriate even in the worst of circumstances, but the motor control part of his brain refused to acknowledge that he should move. Jim was warm and his Vulcan body needed the warmth. It was logical, in a twisted sense of the word.

Spock let out a shaky breath. He felt Kirk tense up but he couldn't form a response.

"Spock?"

His lips were numb. He wanted desperately to speak, to form an articulate response to answer the question, but he couldn't. He couldn't feel his lips, couldn't feel his face at all, in fact. His fingers and toes were numb and he was quite aware of why Kirk had been complaining earlier. Logic stated that his appendages were still connected, but not being able to feel either fingers or toes brought a sense of irrationality; what if they had fallen off? It wasn't logical, but it was something starting to claw into his mind.

"Spock."

Part of him wished that Kirk would stop speaking. His own inability to respond made him irritated, emotional. He would never admit to it, but he was feeling emotion. He wanted to curse the weather for the cold, curse his Vulcan heritage for its lack of handling extreme temperatures. He was angry, he imagined, which simply disgusted him. It was a cycle of emotions that the temperature was bringing out.

He was dying.

His body curled impossibly closer to his Captain.

"Spock... Spock? Please. Talk to me, Spock."

Panic was tangible in hopeless situations. The worry and panic oozing through Kirk's voice settled deep into Spock's nerves. It did not help his situation. His body's reaction to panic was quickened heart rate, quickened breathing. Cold air rushed into his lungs at an increasing speed and he futilely pressed his face further into the warm stretch of skin that he hadn't yet recognized to be Kirk's neck.

Clumsily, he found it in his mind to move his arm. Slowly, painstakingly, with pins and needles shooting through his arm, he reached to Kirk's shoulder. Physical contact was a human sign of comfort, he thought. It would have to be enough, for Spock could give no more at the most present moment. If he were not to find a source of heat besides Jim's body heat, he would not be able to comfort, or try to comfort, anyone else at all.

It surprised him when he suddenly fell head-first into Kirk's mind.

He was immediately overtaken by panic and fear so strong that it made Spock's heart ache. It was an unfamiliar feeling. Shivers, shudders of terror and not from cold, made his body tremble from the sudden intensity of emotion. Unhappiness, disbelief, guilt, longing and the clamouring feeling that he was letting someone down, letting everyone down.

Spock winced. It hurt. Everything. Inexplicable pain, shattering every last bit of his self control. He clenched his teeth together and muffled a cry of distress against Kirk's coat. There was too much emotion, too much sentiment, piled upon the feeling that was already Spock facing his own demise. It made his entire _being_ hurt.

The meld evaporated. Spock was back in his own body, his own mind, not that it helped anything. There was no going back from Kirk's pain... although he did not understand a large quantity of it.

He wanted to inquire. It was hardly his business but why was Kirk experiencing such disappointment in himself? The Captain and the first officer were dying, but it could have been the whole ship. Two versus four hundred was hardly a terrible trade. Spock did not understand.

It hardly mattered.

His mind was fuzzy. It was no longer Kirk's and it was no longer his own. Logic dictated that he was about to fall asleep and he could do absolutely nothing to stop it.

_Forgive me for my human indiscretions, Surak. May Jim Kirk live long and prosper even in the face of the improbable._

As far as last thoughts went, Spock realized, it was far more human than he ever hoped his last wish would be.

* * *

When Spock had mind-melded with him, Kirk had been terrified. He'd gotten a glimpse of Spock's emotions in all of a few seconds. Even if Spock claimed that he did not have emotions, or that he repressed them for the Vulcan half of his being, Kirk was overwhelmed.

Spock was aptly terrified. It was more of a quiet terror, just beneath the surface, being overruled by logic but still definitely there. It scared the shit out of Kirk because _Spock_ was not supposed to be terrified in any sense of the word.

Kirk knew he was going to die.

There was nothing he could do.

So, naturally, he did the thing that was probably the most stupid. He pushed Spock away and leaned him back against the cave wall. His fingers went to his own parka, unzipping it. Spock had always said that separately, they were expendable. Together, both of them could not die. Kirk wouldn't let Spock die. No, he was the Captain and he was supposed to look after his shipmates and he was _not_ going to let Spock die. He couldn't. He would protect Spock to his dying breath and if freezing to death was what it took, so be it.

Kirk ripped his parka off and wrapped it tightly around Spock's body. He formed his scarf into a sort of malformed face mask for Spock, leaving breathing room but covering as much of the Vulcan's face as he could. He took both of their gloves off and pressed the Vulcan's ice cold fingers between his palms, trying to generate some heat. He really didn't want to stick Spock's fingers against his own arm or anything while they were so cold, but he didn't know how much heat his hands could generate.

He curled his hand around Spock's fingers, pressing his free hand against Spock's cheek and then ears. Ears and nose always got the coldest first, right? At least that was how Kirk thought it worked with humans. Still, Spock's face had a light green tinge to it, so he figured those were the coldest points. But, weren't Vulcan fingers most sensitive...?

He wished he had been paying attention more when they had learned about other species. Why couldn't he remember? Because he had been a stupid cocky ass cadet and slacked off when he could?

"Spock. Spock, wake up, you green-blooded bastard. Open your eyes. That's an order, Spock, open your eyes."

Spock was beyond comprehending, apparently, and Kirk trailed off into a barrage of strongly coloured metaphors, exercising the few Klingon, Deltan, Vulcan, Romulan, etc, swear words that he knew. It didn't help... It didn't even make him feel better.

All he knew was that Spock was dying, he was dying, that it was damn cold and Bones had been right: space was disease wrapped in darkness.

Kirk blinked against the swimming blackness that was swarming before his vision. He could taste blood in his mouth where he must have bitten his tongue. His teeth were chattering enough for that to be likely. He blinked to clear his vision and found that he couldn't force his eyes back open. It was a strange level of consciousness.

He barely coerced his body to cuddle up next to Spock again, keeping his fingers folded in his palms. His lungs felt like they were on fire. Why had this happened so quickly? It had happened quickly, right? How much time had even passed?

It was all confusion. He couldn't think. He understood the terror that Spock had fleetingly felt before passing out. Regrets poured from his mind.

_Spock. This was definitely my fault. I know. Bones, find a way to forgive my occasional idiocy. Pike, I owe you more than this. Dad..._

_I'm sorry._

* * *

"Transporter's operational!"

"Scotty!"

"Aye, sir, compensating for interference!"

"Get them up here _now_!"

"I cannae guarantee-"

"Just get that pointy-eared bastard out as soon as you can! And Jim, too!"

"Compensation complete. She's a wee bit dodgy, but... _aye_! Locked on!"

"Energize!"

* * *

**Thank you to _wetrustno1_ for the idea of Spock's POV and/or a mind meld. :)**

**Two things about Kirk: one, I'm sure people can dispute on rather or not Kirk would actually strip so Spock could have his coat, scarf, etc, but paradoxical undressing is also what I was aiming for. During hypothermia, a person can become so cold that he doesn't believe he needs so many clothes. Secondly, if it seems fast-paced, also keep in mind that mental confusion can also alter perception of time for those with hypothermia.**

**Putting a plaster on a mistake: in the last chapter, I wrote that Vulcans have higher temperatures than humans. That was incorrect. They have below average temperatures compared to humans. Sorry for the mix-up. It has been corrected.**

**I love to read your comments as usual, and I do not own _Star Trek_. Thank you!**


	6. As Painful as Daylight after Dark

The first thing that Kirk was aware of was a terrible ache pervading his body. He wondered how on earth he could still _feel_ after sitting in the cold for so long... And, right. The cold. Was Spock alright? He was trying to keep his first officer as warm as possible, which was awkward as hell but... whatever it took.

Except it wasn't cold at all. This settled into Kirk's sluggish brain and said to him that if he wasn't feeling the cold, it was probably a bad sign.

_Damn it, James, open your eyes, _he commanded to himself. He found his mind was spouting off thoughts that he didn't want to respond to. If he didn't respond to his own orders, how could he expect a whole starship of people to do the same?

Finally, slowly, he managed to make his eyes cooperate. They fluttered uselessly, cracking open to stare blearily towards what he slowly ascertained to be a ceiling.

The ceiling of... Shit, he knew this ceiling. Where was he?

"Jim?"

Someone was talking to him. He focussed on unsticking his tongue from the roof of his mouth and trying to swallow, but his mouth was dry.

"Jim."

"... Bones...?"

He didn't know how he knew it was Bones, but something about the distinct gruff quality of the voice gave it away. It was always Bones, Bones or Spock... and what had happened to Spock?

"Spock..." Kirk mumbled, trying to sit up.

"Stop moving, dumbass!" Bones's face suddenly came into Kirk's line of sight. Pressure was applied to either of his shoulders, keeping him from moving. "It's bad enough that Spock barely had a pulse when you got back, I don't need you overexerting yourself!"

It took Jim a moment to realize that Bones had his hands on his shoulders to prevent him moving, but that wasn't the main thought on Kirk's mind. Because, after a moment, it all started coming back. The planet, the cold, the phasers, Spock, the _cuddling_, but Spock had been_ dying_-

"Where's Spock?" he demanded, his voice weak. He hoped that Bones understood the demand through his tone, not the volume of his voice.

The frown on McCoy's face didn't flicker. "He's in the bed next to you. Now shut up and lay still before I sedate you again."

Kirk tried to find the Vulcan with his own eyes, but Bones was standing in the way. "Is he alright?"

"He's going to be fine... I think." McCoy sighed heavily, scrubbing his hand against his face. "Dammit, Jim, I leave you two alone for ten minutes and next thing I know, you're trapped on a freezing planet and then when we _can_ beam you back up, here you've been running around half-naked! Can't you keep your clothes on _at all_, for once in your life?"

Kirk's lips twitched towards a barely visible smile. "Yeah... no, I don't think it's possible... You know how attractive that green-blooded... Vulcan can be," he joked weakly.

Joking was always a way to cover up for, well, anything, but it was his outlet for serious situations. Really, he cared less about the jokes and the taunts than he did about the sleeping Vulcan curled up in the bed next to him. Now that Bones had moved out of the way, Kirk could see Spock.

He was curled up in the biobed next to Jim, like Bones had said, looking rather small and far too vulnerable for a Vulcan to look. He was curled into the smallest space possible, the blankets drawn close to his shoulders. His hair was out of place, swept haphazardly across his forehead, and his eyes were squeezed shut.

He looked like he was in pain.

Kirk looked back at Bones.

"He's going to be..." McCoy trailed off. "He's going to have to sort it out. I've done what I can, but Vulcans have this healing shit that they do near death and... his body has to pull him through it."

Kirk shifted his gaze back to Spock slowly. He noticed that his first officer's lips were still lined with blue.

"But, knowing him, I'm sure he'll be fine. Pig-headed Vulcan stubbornness and all that crap..."

Kirk swallowed and nodded, wincing as a stab of pain shot up his spine.

"Still hurting?"

Shivering, Kirk fumbled for the blankets. "Nah..."

"You're a terrible liar," McCoy muttered. Kirk watched tiredly as he prepared a hypospray. "This is gonna knock ya out. It'll take the pain away by the time you wake up in the morning."

Kirk tried to protest, but the hiss of the hypospray got him before he could find words. His mind was muddled with questions- _what time is it? How long were we down there? Why the hell did you guys take so long?_- and most importantly...

My first officer is going to be alright... right?

His eyes felt heavy. He drifted off again.

* * *

Kirk paced relentlessly along the medical bay, shivering at the temperature in the room. He didn't know why hospitals were always so damn cold, even a faux-hospital on a starship. He ought to have gone back to work, by all rights, but he couldn't leave the Sickbay, not now, not until he knew if Spock was going to be alright or if he was going to die.

Besides, all _he_ did was sit in a special chair. Sulu could handle that for now.

He needed to know that Spock was going to going to be alright. That was essential. More essential than breathing. That was scary. He had never relied on someone so much, someone asides himself and George. But he'd been a kid then, so George didn't count much, and since he'd become an adult, it was only him.

But now, there was Spock and... maybe _relying_ wasn't the correct word, but it was scary to think that he might not wake up.

"Come on, Pointy..." he muttered, throwing himself into the chair next to Spock's biobed. The Vulcan's face was still flushed, the green tint visible all too well on the tip of his nose, his cheekbones, his lips.

Kirk sighed. He reached forward to press his fingers against Spock's cheek, even though his temperature was visible on the screen, to check on the skin temperature. He still felt cool, which didn't make any sense. It had been almost seven hours since Bones and Scotty had beamed them up. Kirk had been up for the past two, thanks to Bones's hyposprays and shit, but Spock hadn't moved at all. Kirk didn't know why and all Bones kept saying was that if Spock wanted to wake up, he would wake up.

"I'm not going back to work until you wake up," Kirk said to Spock. "So we're without a Captain and a first officer."

He pressed his fingertips against Spock's fingernails, the latter of which had cycled to the unhealthy (or healthy?) shade of green.

"Spock..." Kirk sighed. If it hadn't been for his stupidity, maybe Spock wasn't still be stuck in bed, recovering from hypothermia. "Wake up..."

In a motion that he would never admit to, Kirk took one of Spock's hands in both of his own, sandwiching the Vulcan's cool skin between his fingers.

* * *

**It's not _exactly_ _The Motion Picture_, but it's the Reboot version of that scene. Because, after Darkness, Kirk should be able to show he cares about Spock to hold his hand while he's unconscious. But ONLY when he's unconscious because nu!Kirk and Spock wouldn't hold hands while conscious. :p**

**I would love to hear what you think, as usual. Thank you!**


	7. As Curious as Falling Down a Rabbit Hole

Spock awoke with a start. He didn't know why or even where he was. What alarmed him most was that his brain seemed sluggish to make the connections, to answer the questions that he happened to think of.

Slowly, it came back, all the memories of Betatin VII. Of being frozen alive and dying, respectively. But he hadn't died, that much was obvious. He was in the medical bay, on the _Enterprise_. Clearly, the crew had beamed them up some time after Spock had lost consciousness, although it couldn't have been much longer after.

There were tingles of feeling shooting through his body, the feeling that humans often named 'pins and needles'. They started at his fingertips and travelled throughout his body, replacing the impenetrable cold that had been plaguing his body with something warm and... and... pleasant in ways that Spock could not describe with any language that he knew or understood.

Spock's breath escaped in a tired sigh as he tried to force his eyes to cooperation. He stared at the ceiling blearily for a moment. He blinked away lethargy and looked around briefly. He wondered where Captain Kirk was and wondered even more if he was unharmed.

His eyes slowly meandered to look around further, his mind contemplating the feeling of what he believed humans called 'warm and fuzzy' (although how was an emotion considered to be 'fuzzy'?). His eyes settled on a figure sitting in a chair near the foot of his bed. The posture and the hair gave it away; it was Captain Kirk. Illogical and yet...

"Captain?"

Kirk snapped up so quickly that a crisis might have been imminent. "Spock!" he exclaimed, looking down at him. He looked over his shoulder. "Bones! Spock's awake!" He looked back at Spock. "Took you long enough."

"You are unharmed," Spock said, in lieu of responding to Captain Kirk's comment.

"Well, I wouldn't say _unharmed_..." Kirk said, amidst a small grin. "Everything kind of still hurts. And my fingernails are still blue. Yours are green. Oh-" Kirk snapped away from Spock's bedside even quicker than he had risen his head to look at Spock.

Pressure that Spock hadn't noticed prior suddenly vanished away from one of his hands. He felt a bewildered gaze flash across his face before he could stop it and he worked quickly to smother it. Had Kirk been... holding his hand?

Laughter broke his concentration and he glanced up as Doctor McCoy walked into view. "I wondered how long you were gonna sit there and do that."

"I wasn't doing anything," Kirk retorted. His face was tinged pink.

"Jim, didn't you ever learn that Vulcans can have full-blown sex with just their fingers?"

Spock, while discomforted by the _entire_ scenario and subsequent conversation, watched Kirk's eyes widen. He looked mortified, embarrassed, and then... angry.

"Son of a bitch, Bones! How long have you known that I was sitting here, I mean-" He shot a wary glance at Spock and then looked back at Bones. He sniffed heartily. "Well, if they have sex with their fingers then I just gave him the best night of his life."

Spock inhaled heavily and closed his eyes. "Doctor McCoy, am I able to return to my duties?"

McCoy, who had been smiling smugly to himself but yet still interested in the tricorder he was holding over Spock's body, looked up. The smile melted off his face. "You're joking."

Spock opened his eyes again. "I do not jest."

"You're not going anywhere, Spock. You almost died. And, dammit, Jim, get back in your bed! You're not leaving tonight, either. I still have to give you hypos of Solizon if you've forgotten."

"I haven't forgotten. You keep telling me. Every five minutes. I was just-"

"And he's awake now, so get back in bed!"

Spock tilted his head to watch Kirk as he got back into his own biobed. "I do not understand. Why would you choose to watch me when you were required to sleep?"

Kirk groaned and grabbed the blanket, wrenching it up to his chin. "Could you not say that I was watching you? That's creepy."

"You were indeed watching me, as far as I have come to understand," Spock said, frowning the slightest frown.

"Yeah, but there's a certain weird ass connotation to 'I was watching you sleep'."

Spock raised an eyebrow and looked back at Doctor McCoy as he administered a hypospray. "When will I be able to return to the Bridge?"

"When your temperature's back up to thirty-three and you stop asking me when you can go back to work."

Spock resisted the very human urge to sigh and closed his eyes again. Already the newest dose of what Spock suspected was Solizon on himself was turning his stomach. The Captain and the Doctor's tendency towards banter did not alleviate the headache that was still throbbing under his temples.

He wished for the peace of sleep, even though sleep had been what he had been afraid of for so long. Fear... Not a human emotion that he was quite familiar with. Not that he hadn't experienced it- regrettably, he had, but he preferred not to think back to the days where they had faced destruction of the _Enterprise_ or the wrath of Khan.

"How are you feeling, Jim?" McCoy's voice asked, further away now.

"I'm fine, Bones, I already said so. I told you that a few hours ago. I don't see why you won't let me go back to my quarters. I'm going to sleep, which I can do there," Kirk retorted. He still sounded like he was sulking.

"Because you're probably going to pull some _oh, woe is me, I almost froze to death and the after-effects of the cold still linger_ shit and try to get some girl into bed with you. Overexertion is not the best thing right now, Jim."

"Why not? It would get my blood pumping faster."

"You are incorrigible," McCoy replied.

"You've said that to me before," Kirk said cheerfully.

"And then you proceeded to get accused by the unknown at the time pointy-eared bastard and then I snuck you aboard a starship. Point proven, Jim."

Jim's laughter. A pause, followed by "Hey, why didn't you tell me about the Vulcan finger thing? I was just trying to get the feeling back in his fingers cuz my fingers were tingly afterwards. His nails were _green_, Bones. I thought warmth might help."

"Because it was funny and I was amused," McCoy said, his tone sounding snarky.

"Have I ever mentioned I hate you?"

"You may have... I don't know... Wait, yeah, yeah, I remember some times that you've said that before."

Doctor McCoy's voice was amused and the combined laughter of Doctor and Captain met Spock's ears. He could easily say that he did not understand what was funny about their conversations. 'Hate' was a strong sense of distaste or dislike for another person or thing. Yet, Captain Kirk was making a clear joke about it and Doctor McCoy was responding in such a manner. They were complaining about real events, but they were... making fun of them? That hardly made any sense as those were events were not humour-worthy.

Yes, Kirk had explained all about friends do this for people and friends do that for people. Spock had had the 'lecture' on friendship. While he and Captain Kirk's relationship had progressed further than any Captain-first officer relationship should (thus, the word 'friendship'), but there was far too much that he didn't understand about the emotional bond between them.

He knew they had one and that was just about all he could comprehend. There was no logic about it.

"... Ah, hell," Kirk was saying. "Why do none of our missions go right? The transporter making doubles, the weird flowers, now this stupid snowstorm... I don't wanna die by snow, Bones."

"You're going to die from your over-inflated ego," McCoy replied. There a hiss of the hypospray. "I wouldn't worry about it too much," he continued, in a voice that was more quiet. "You're stubborn, Jim. You won't let a snowstorm kill you."

"I almost let a snowstorm kill him."

Spock, who was positive that McCoy and Kirk thought that he was asleep, continued to feign sleep in an act of untruth. He was not entirely sure why. Inclination aside, he sighed in his 'sleep' and tucked his head down into the pillow a bit further.

"That was not your fault, Jim."

"I should have brought that damn survival kit. I didn't think about it. Talk about feeling stupid."

"Everyone makes mistakes."

Kirk snorted. "I just make a lot of them."

"Well, that's true," McCoy said.

"Thanks," Kirk said dryly.

"Jim," McCoy sighed. "You had your clothes off and you were cuddling with that damn Vulcan. Don't try to act like you were just going to let him die."

"I didn't have my clothes off," Kirk retorted. A pause. "Did I?"

"Well, your coat and gloves and scarf. That stuff. You actually probably saved his life, Jim. It was close, which is why he's been asleep for so long."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Yes, it is. We could have no Captain _and_ no first officer. But instead, we have both. Now, would you stop all this sentimental shit and go to sleep?" McCoy added gruffly.

Kirk laughed. "Yes, sir."

Spock chanced a glance through lowered eyelashes at Captain Kirk. He was stretched out in his biobed, an arm beneath his head, and he was smiling as McCoy walked away. The latter was smiling as well.

It was amazing how quickly their conversation jumped tone. Seriousness always seemed to be overlayed with gruffness or bravado. He did not have that sort of relationship with Kirk... nor did he think he ever would, nor did he wish to. It was far too emotional.

He closed his eyes again and, still mulling over Kirk's self-sacrificing (again) actions to protect Spock, drifted off uneasily.

* * *

Spock was awake early, although that may have only been because McCoy was administering another hypospray.

"Did I wake you?" McCoy asked, glancing down at him.

"There is a strong possibility that your presence disturbed my rest," Spock replied evenly.

McCoy rolled his eyes. "A simple 'yes' would have been good enough. Although you could have said 'no', too."

"That would have been a lie."

"Blunt truth, Spock. I knew you annoyed me for some reason," McCoy said, turning away to put his hypospray back.

Spock was quiet for a moment as he sat up slightly, leaning back against the pillows. He glanced over his shoulder to his stats without really seeing them.

"Penny for your thoughts."

Spock looked back at Doctor McCoy. "Pardon?"

"I said... oh, nevermind."

"Why should I be given a penny for a thought? Thinking is a continuous state of mind. It would be impossible to calculate how many pennies would be necessary. As it stands, pennies are not even used in today's-"

"Spock," McCoy interrupted. "Stop making everything so damn literal. How did Jim survive down there with you? I'm surprised he didn't kill himself."

Spock ignored the jibe. "Doctor McCoy, may I ask a personal query?"

McCoy fumbled the clipboard and nearly dropped it. "_You_ want to ask _me_ a personal question?"

"If that would not be of any trouble."

"... Okay, I'll bite." He put the clipboard down. "What do you want to know?"

Spock tilted his head to look towards Kirk. "His actions are illogical."

McCoy snorted. "Tell me about it." Spock raised an eyebrow and looked back at McCoy. He waved his hand. "I meant I know he is, but that's not a question, Spock."

"The Captain is the most vital person to a starship. Yet he would opt to end his life to save mine," Spock said. "I am replaceable."

"No, you're not," McCoy said in a tone of the condescending.

Spock, who had been looking at Kirk again, looked back at McCoy at that comment. His pointed eyebrows furrowed in muted confusion. "Yes, I am."

"Spock, dammit, no, you're not. You can keep saying that or thinking that, but you're the most irreplaceable person on this ship 'sides from Jim. And I'm never going to say that again, so enjoy it while you can."

Spock's frown did not lessen. "I... I do not understand."

McCoy sighed. "Shit, man; it's no wonder Jim gets so fed up with you. I know you're a Vulcan but you can be pretty dense."

Spock waited patiently for McCoy to continue.

"Jim relies on you. And you don't think you do, but you rely on him, too. You two are _friends_. Friends, Spock, the thing that you Vulcans think you can get by without. If it wasn't for him, you'd be dead. And if it wasn't for you, _he'd_ be dead more times than I can count on both hands. He _cares_ for you, man, don't you see?"

Spock looked back at him. "This does not explain how I am not replaceable. Any person with the reasonable training-"

"This isn't about _training_," McCoy interrupted. "Yes, you're replaceable, but Jim's not going to find another First Officer like you. We can't just find another person to fill your shoes."

"My shoes?"

McCoy sighed- again- and grabbed his clipboard. "Forget it, Spock."

Spock would have huffed if he were human. "That hardly answered my question, Doctor McCoy."

"I'm a doctor, not a therapist," McCoy retorted. "Go back to sleep. You'll be released in a few hours."

With that, Doctor McCoy turned away, leaving Spock alone with the most annoying kind of thoughts- the ones that you didn't understand but wouldn't leave you alone- and a silent, sleeping Captain within his view.

* * *

**Whoa, hello, this chapter wanted to be a lot longer than usual. There be sentimental crap here. And lots of ridiculous nods to _The Original Series_ that I never intended that found their way into it seamlessly. And remember- this is set _after Into Darkness_. Spones for who like that, Spirk for people who like that, and, of course, it's all in character as much as I can make it, so it's platonic to the eye but if you want to interpret it... not my ship, but whatever floats your boat. :)**

**I do not own _Star Trek_. Thank you!**


	8. Epilogue- They are Simply Best Friends

Spock awoke with a start, fighting back the urge to suck in a deep breath of oxygen. He was not stuck on Betatin VII, he was not curled up with Captain Kirk, and he did not have a shortage of oxygen in the small enclosure of his quarters.

Irrationally, memories of the ice cold planet haunted his unconsciousness. He had been out of Sickbay for approximately twenty-seven hours, even though Doctor McCoy had confined him to quarters until Beta shift today.

Spock stretched and then curled up again, drawing his pillow close to his face. These dreams had been nagging at him, preventing him from restful sleep. If he wasn't under doctor's orders- that were wholly unnecessary- Spock would have gone to the Science labs. That was wishful thinking, however, because he _was_ under doctor's orders for another twelve point three hours.

He stifled a yawn and rolled over.

* * *

"Spock?"

Spock pried his eyes open, looking around himself self-consciously. "Yes, Captain?" he asked, sitting up straighter.

"You're dozing off over your soup."

Spock looked down at lunch on the table, staring dully into his soup. "Yes."

"Do I need to get someone to stand in for you today?" Kirk asked, raising an eyebrow.

Spock shook his head. "That will not be necessary."

Kirk set his coffee cup down. He clasped his hands together and leaned forward, looking Spock straight in the eye. "Are you alright?"

Spock hesitated, but nodded. "I am experiencing... trouble sleeping," he admitted. "But it's not of utmost importance."

"You're falling asleep during your shift; I think it's pretty important."

Spock knew that Kirk had him there. It was a good catch on the Captain's behalf.

But Kirk continued, saving him from a response. "Nightmares?"

Spock inclined his head slightly. "Not particularly what you would call nightmares. Moreover memories."

Kirk sighed. "Yeah, me, too. It's always the same gut-wrenching, breathless heartache. All the regrets and final promises and the desolation..." he trailed off.

The crushing tedium of being stuck in a cave of pure ice cold tendencies. The failing ability to breathe, feeling each breath turning shorter and shorter, more and more difficult. The fact that he and Captain Kirk had been embracing, forced into sharing body heat to keep themselves alive was still unsettling. His own logic had been failing, his mental capacity short-circuiting, his ability to even move his lips to form words diminished. It had been... frightening.

Kirk shook himself just then, drawing in a deep breath. "Well, I went to Bones for a sedative. It might help you. Pill form or something."

Spock tilted his head. "Perhaps."

"Don't give me that 'I don't need it' shit. If you're having nightmares-"

"I did not say that I do not need it, Captain," Spock interrupted.

"I know." Kirk paused to yawn. "But you've got that stubborn Vulcan look."

Spock turned away and covered his mouth- unlike Captain Kirk- as he, too, yawned. "I fail to see how I look stubborn."

Kirk was about to respond when he instead yawned again. "Damn it!"

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Are you quite positive that the sedative has been working to its full effect for you, Captain?"

"Yes... No... I'm tired," he mumbled.

"Perhaps you should take the rest of the shift off and I will handle your duties," Spock said.

"Oh, don't try and weasel out getting some rest," Kirk muttered, downing his coffee in three gulps. "I'm going back to the Bridge. Don't fall asleep if you can help it."

Spock watched Captain Kirk leave and, knowing that he would probably fall asleep without a distraction, picked up his tray to empty and followed after his Captain.

* * *

Spock was in the middle of a chart when his door buzzed. He granted entrance without looking up, eyes intent on something that wasn't adding up in the calculations.

"Alright, Spocko, I've got sedatives and Vulcan tea," Kirk said, striding into his quarters.

Spock raised his head. There were multiple parts of the statement that he wished to convey, although none of them found vocals before Kirk spoke again.

"Here," he said, holding out the two tablets he was holding. "Take these, with this," he said, setting the mug down on the table.

Spock looked down at the mug. The scent of familiar home-brewed tea wafted towards his nose and he resisted the urge to pick up the mug and drink it immediately. It had been a long day.

"Spock."

Spock looked back at Kirk. "Very well." He set his holopen down and took the sedative tablets from Kirk, placing them on his tongue. He chased them down with a drink of his tea, setting the mug down again. "I advise that you get some sleep as well."

Kirk yawned widely. "Yep. Already taken mine. Figured I'd take matters into my own hands, though... I thought you were still working on that report."

Spock stood up, picking up his tea. "The report is not adding up correctly, Captain. I fear-"

"You're probably just too tired to add it up, Spock." An idea lit up his eyes. "Chess?"

"We have just taken sedatives, Captain. Our ability to play chess-" He stopped talking, pressing his lips into a fine line momentarily. "You expect to win while the sedative takes effect."

Kirk grinned.

Spock gestured to the three-dimensional chess board. "You may have the first move, Captain."

Kirk strode to the table, flopping into one of the chairs. He moved a pawn and looked expectantly towards Spock.

Spock walked across the room and joined Kirk at the table. "If you wish to win, even in these weakened mental states, you must refrain from typical moves, Captain," he commented, countering the familiar move in his also typical response.

"Wait and see, Spock. Wait and see."

* * *

When Leonard McCoy decided to find both of his patients to check up on them, he thought the computer was malfunctioning when it said that they were together in Spock's quarters. This wasn't an uncommon occurrence- at normal time. It was just past 0200 hours now... and both Spock and Kirk appeared to be in the Vulcan's quarters.

McCoy sighed. If they were playing chess marathons again, so help him...

Grabbing his handheld tricorder, McCoy strode to the Vulcan's quarters.

He stopped in the doorway, almost dropping his tricorder. He stared at the pair for a moment before sighing again, turning away with just the slightest hint of a smile on his lips.

They were both sitting at the chess table, pieces laying discarded across the three-dimensional landscape. Kirk's head was pillowed on his arms, resting on the table, and he was snoring slightly. Spock was still sitting in his own chair, although slightly slumped now, his head propped up on his hand. They were both sound asleep.

Forgoing the fact that Jim was going to have the knight imprinted onto his face and that Spock was going to have a crick in his neck, Leonard turned and simply walked out.

* * *

**After much muse-hating-me, I finally managed the epilogue for this chapter. So, I hope you all enjoyed this story... I enjoy it, pretty much... with all of its platonic cuddles and stuff. Thank you all for the support and your kind thoughts. :)**

**I do not own _Star Trek_. Thank you!**


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